


The Halves That Make Us Whole

by The_Oaken_Muse



Category: Danny Phantom, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Danny has Anxiety, Dream Shenanigans, Gen, I just need these boys to be friends, Steven Universe Has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Oaken_Muse/pseuds/The_Oaken_Muse
Summary: Steven has seen more of distant galaxies than he has his home planet, so he's taking some time for himself, visiting Earth's wonders, trying to find his place in it all, you know. What he did not expect to find was a parallel dimension and, well, a kindred spirit, you might say.
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Steven Universe
Comments: 27
Kudos: 106





	1. Sleep-Deprived

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the end of Steven Universe Future, there will be spoilers for Steven Universe, The Movie, and Future. Consider this your one warning. Set somewhere *gestures vaguely* in Season 3 for Danny Phantom.

It’s dawn and the sky is starting to glow above the treetops, there are a few wispy clouds that will soon blaze with the rising sun. It’s a beautiful morning, but the boy behind the wheel only sees the lines on the road in front of him.

He needs to stay between those lines, that’s very important.

The dashed line to his left blurs to match the solid line to his right; he’s not sure how fast he’s going, he’s not even sure what the speed limit _is_. There are no other cars to gauge by and he’s given up on trying to read the road signs.

He needs to keep his eyes open, that’s _also_ very important.

He is far too aware of his eyes; dry and stinging from his unblinking gaze. He’s overcompensating, he _should_ blink, but it feels like he’s forgotten how. His eyelids seem to have retreated back into the sockets of his skull and then oozed down into puffy, bruise-colored bags. They’re taking over his face- does he still have a face? He can’t feel his face, just his eyes and the bags under them.

He blinks. It burns.

Steven tried to sleep last night, he really did, and the night before that, and the one before that, too.

He’s been having nightmares again. They’re different from the ones he was having a few months ago, before his big breakdown. Those dreams were filled with people and places he knew, reflected the fears and insecurities _his_ conscious mind suppressed; but these dreams, they dropped him in the middle of a landscape more alien than that of any planet he’d ever seen, and he’d visited more than his fair share of strange worlds.

His surroundings were in constant flux, as those in dreams were wont to be, one moment he was stalking through a dark forest, the next climbing decrepit castle walls, then a second later he would be wandering through stacks upon stacks of books that seemed more maze than library. He could climb a set of stairs that appeared endless and yet end up in the sunken pit of a grave in a cemetery that felt far too animate for his liking. The entire dreamscape was bathed in toxic shades of green, deep blood reds, and violent neon purples that were reminiscent of a glitching computer screen. He would push through a door incongruously standing in the middle of a field only to find countless others like it levitating in space before him.

However, it was not space like he knew it, with vast, empty expanses of nothing separating small pockets of gravity, rock and soil, and _life_. No matter how much it seemed at times like he was floating in an asteroid field, with large hunks of rock suspended as far as the eye could see, there were no stars, no distant galaxies; all traces of the familiar conspicuously absent. _This_ space wasn’t empty, no, it was full of _something_ , and whatever it was, it made his skin crawl.

Sometimes he dreamed of people, at least he _thought_ they were people. They didn’t exactly look human, and they certainly weren’t Gems, even corrupted Gems had a _gem_. It was somewhere in between, almost as if humans could become corrupted. Humans with horns, and claws, and fangs, extra limbs, missing limbs, grotesquely distorted features, hollow eyes, emaciated bodies, engulfed in never-ending flames. Their movements were chaotic, unbound from the laws of the universe, and, like everything else here, they were cast in an unnatural ambient light with no discernible source or direction.

Even without his observations he knew, with the unwavering certainty of dreams, that this was not Earth, nor was it the familiar expanse of space he had so frequently traversed as an ambassador of peace. He also knew that, unrealistic as it all was, it also felt very, very unsettlingly real.

But it wasn’t the not-quite-right people, or the chaotically shifting environment, the ghastly green atmosphere, or even the startlingly graphic quality of it all that made these dreams so absolutely terrifying.

No, it was knowing that no matter where he went, he was being watched by some unseen enemy; malevolent beings, motivated by envy, hunger, and greed, who would take and take and never be satisfied. He was just the current means to an ever-changing end, a tool, a pawn to be used then discarded. It was the inescapable feeling that he was being followed, no, _hunted_ , like an animal. They had turned their covetous eyes on him and would stop at nothing to possess him. The noose was tightening, they were closing in. Soon there wouldn’t be anywhere left to run, they would back him into a corner and pry that most precious stone from his oh-so-vulnerable flesh.

An involuntary shiver shook him out of his thoughts.

Just the memory of it had his hair standing on end, hands gripping the wheel like a vise, and eyes frantically scanning for danger.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, holding it in his lungs for a beat before releasing it, then he took another, then another, and as one last exhale slowly pushed past his lips, the pink glow surrounding him faded and his heart rate returned to normal.

That was certainly _one_ way to wake up. He would have preferred coffee.

Newly aware of his surroundings, Steven looked for a sign along the highway that would hopefully give him some idea of how far he’s driven since he jolted awake in the early hours of the morning; his latest nightmare having effectively dashed any chance at a peaceful night’s sleep.

At this point he honestly shouldn’t be surprised, this was, what? the fifth or sixth night in a row of these dreams, after all. They started a few days after he left the West Coast; he was weaving his way back east from state to state, visiting awe-inspiring destinations both natural and manmade. He was sleeping in his car. A lot.

The dreams were getting worse each time, longer and more vivid. The first was barely a whisper, a flash of lurid green and a sense of unease imprinting itself in his memory. Last night’s had been more like he was trapped in some kind of cutting-edge, highly immersive, virtual reality haunted house or something. If he wasn’t absolutely convinced a place that utterly freaky couldn’t exist outside of nightmares, he would be worried that another night on his current trajectory might actually land him there.

He chuckled nervously, willing his thoughts to purge _that_ idea from his consciousness before he somehow managed to jinx himself.

Then he saw it, a light in the darkness! Finally! A ~~distraction~~ sign! Amity Park 57 miles.

_Amity Park?_ He hummed in thought. Amity means friendship or friendliness or something, right? And parks are nice and relaxing. That sounds like the perfect place to take a break, get something to eat, maybe he’d even sleep in a real bed tonight! Just what the doctor ordered.

With a decision made and destination chosen, Steven once again settled into the rhythm of the drive; this time taking in the scenery flying by and, eventually, allowing his mind to wander on to pleasant images of parks and picnics with friends.

He was almost there, just a handful of miles left to go, when he spotted a flashy billboard proclaiming Amity Park to be “The Most Haunted City in America” and advertising ghost tours.

Yikes, that didn’t exactly bode well for the relaxing rest stop he’d had in mind. Maybe he should just skip this town, forget about picnics in the park, and keep on driving until he reached the Great Lakes.

Although, on second thought, the last time he’d believed something was “haunted” it had turned out to be a corrupted Gem embedded in the walls of a lighthouse, manipulating it and its contents to lash out in an attempt at self-defense. What if something like that was happening here?

He thought they had rounded up all the corrupted Gems and finally healed them, but he honestly wouldn’t put it past one to have slipped through the cracks, especially if it was trapped in a building or some random item; it definitely wouldn’t be a Crystal Gem though, they had made sure each and every member had been accounted for, even if they were brought back in pieces.

Maybe that was it: _pieces!_ The city could have been built on an old battlefield, a place strewn with shattered Gems thousands of years ago. A Gem’s shards had a partial consciousness that could possess any inanimate object that held one; the longer the shard was in contact with the item, the stronger and more volatile the consciousness became.

He shuddered. Ketchup, a red far too similar to the color of blood for comfort splashed across the boardwalk in his mind’s eye. Writhing yellow tentacles and a manic smile that came nowhere near reaching cold, empty eyes slowly fixed upon him. The screaming, begging, _choking_ of those few unlucky Boardies echoed in his skull.

He mentally added “Frybo” to the list of things he would need to unpack in therapy. So much had happened since then, burying it in his subconscious, he’d almost, _almost_ forgotten that particular disturbing incident. Another shudder shook him and he moved the most recent addition to his list a few slots higher.

Anyway, a large number of Gem shards in the area would definitely wreak enough havoc to explain why it was known as the _Most_ _Haunted_ City in America… except, he knew where all the battles were fought, he’d worked closely with Pearl, made sure all the Gems they’d lost in the war were at least remembered, if they couldn’t be healed. There weren’t any battlefields in this part of the country.

Still, his gut told him there was gem business afoot, and he was Earth’s Diamond, road trip or no road trip, he needed to check it out.

A few minutes later, Amity Park’s skyline came into view. It was a decent sized city, a handful of metal and glass skyscrapers stood above their brick and mortar counterparts, antennas and billboards dotting rooftops here and there. As Steven drove past a particularly large sign welcoming him with, “Amity Park: A Nice Place to Live!” his stomach vibrated with an unhappy growl.

First order of business: breakfast. Gem shards or ancient relics or whatever was going on here could wait. Although, if this place really was as haunted as the billboards along the highway led him to believe, maybe he would run into a “ghost” while he was getting something to eat.

Steven grinned to himself and began searching for a restaurant that was open this early.

He made it through two, maybe three stoplights before a delicious, greasy smell wafted in through his slightly cracked windows. He’d opened them at some point along the drive, hoping the brisk morning air would help keep him alert. Lucky thing he did, it had also helped him find his breakfast!

He maneuvered the Dondai into a nearby parking spot, made sure his phone, wallet, and keys were in his pockets, dropped some loose change into the meter, and followed his nose a few blocks over to a fast food place called the Nasty Burger.

Despite the restaurant’s name, the place was packed, even this early on a Saturday morning. As someone who had overheard more than a few skeptical comments from tourists back in Beach City about Fish Stew Pizza, which served the best pizza he’d ever eaten by the way, he knew better than to judge a book by its cover. No, Steven was judging this book by how many happy looking teens were chowing down in its booths.

He followed one such teenager with messy black hair inside and got into the fairly long line behind him. He looked to be about Steven’s age, maybe a year or two younger; he honestly wasn’t the best at judging age given the fact that at least half of his friends and family _didn’t_ age and were also thousands of years old, plus he’d looked like an eight year old until he was, like, fifteen or something.

Realizing he had probably been staring at the back of some random kid’s head for longer than was considered socially acceptable, Steven peered up at the menu behind the cashier and tried to focus his sleep deprived brain on deciding what to order. However, his attention was drawn back to the boy in front of him when a small cloud of cool mist floated out of his mouth and obscured the list of various breakfast sandwiches Steven had been attempting to read.

“Oh, _come on!_ ” the boy muttered and turned to rush out the door, almost running into Steven in his haste.

“Um, want me to hold your spot in line?” he offered automatically.

“No, it’s fine.” He declined, side stepping around Steven. “I, uh, don’t know how long this will take.”

He shrugged and watched the boy run out the door and around the corner out of sight. He seemed nice enough, bit skittish though.

Steven moved forward in line and brought his hand up to his chin in thought.

He’d felt a slight chill in the air earlier, but it shouldn’t have been enough to see his breath… maybe the boy had been standing in front of a vent that had suddenly come on, or maybe he just got cold really easily… but that didn’t seem right either…

He sighed.

His tired brain gave up its tenuous hold on the pieces to a puzzle he didn’t even know existed, deciding instead to take his food to the large public green space he’d passed by on the way here. This city might not be the relaxing haven he’d been hoping for, but by the stars, he was going to have his picnic in the park.


	2. Out of Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter about a week later than I had hoped, sorry about that. Turns out I was only like a third through with it instead of three fourths, oops. But on the bright side, it's almost twice as long as the first chapter! Also, my brain decided it wanted to write an unrelated Danny Phantom one shot last weekend instead of working on this, lol.
> 
> Enjoy!

Things had been going pretty great for Danny this week, believe it or not.

It had been uncharacteristically quiet ghost-wise. Just the occasional minor spirit floating around here and there, little more than a loose collection of ectoplasm and the desire to cause mischief; a quick flash of his thermos was all it took to capture those and send them packing. There had been no take over the world plans to thwart, no bone-crunching, property-damaging, reputation-ruining fights to fight, no sudden appearances of freaky new abilities to master, and only _one_ of his parents’ new inventions had tried to fry him.

He had actually been able to catch up on sleep and homework for once, he’d aced his history test on Thursday (well, he made a 93, which was close enough), and they had what promised to be a fun extra credit assignment to do over the weekend that might just push his grade up to a B in the class! The teacher had let them pick their own groups for the project, so he and his two best friends were meeting up for breakfast before working on it. He’d even managed to beat Sam and Tucker to the Nasty Burger that morning.

With _his_ luck, he should have known it wouldn’t last.

Now he was being unceremoniously dragged across town, his ankle in the mouth of a very excitable, very large, and _very_ _slobbery_ ghost dog.

No sooner had he gotten in line at the restaurant than his ghost sense had gone off and he’d nearly crashed into the guy behind him in his hurry to go check it out. But, _hey_! What’s one more tourist thinking he’s a spaz, he’s sure most of his classmates and teachers think he has Crohn’s disease or IBS or something at this point with how often he suddenly rushes off to “the bathroom” anyway.

He made sure to hover slightly to avoid friction burns from the pavement as Cujo’s mad dash led them through a busy intersection.

He’d briefly entertained the idea of playing it up, fake a cramp here, a little strategic use of Tucker’s Alibi-O-Matic there… If he could convince his teachers that he had a medical condition that involved frequent extended trips to the bathroom it would be _so_ much easier to sneak away when ghosts showed up during school hours (and maybe he’d even get a little leniency when it came to his homework). But he couldn’t risk his parents actually taking him to the doctor.

He went intangible to avoid a nasty bruise from one of those big, blue mailboxes.

He could just imagine what would happen if a real medical professional started poking around his body: “Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I have good news and bad news. You may want to sit down for this,” the doctor would say with a serious sigh. “The good news is your son is in perfect health, not a bowel out of place! The bad news is it seems he’s also been dead for over a year.”

Yeah, _that_ would go over well.

He rolled his eyes and let his head phase through the fence Cujo was hauling him over.

Besides, faking an illness was a major jerk move.

Danny’s ankle was finally released, now thoroughly drenched in spectral saliva, causing his foot to make an unpleasant squelching noise as he stood up and surveyed his surroundings.

They were at… the park?

Maybe Cujo was getting tired already and they could just play a quick game of fetch before Danny sent him on his way. He could still be back at the Nasty Burger in time to meet Sam and Tucker! Maybe his luck hadn’t run out quite yet!

Feeling hopeful that he could still get his day back on track, Danny let a small sphere of pulsing green energy build between his palms before sending a sly look in Cujo’s direction. The dog immediately perked up, his entire body vibrating with excitement as his eyes bounced from the ball to Danny’s face and back again.

“You want the ball boy? Huh? Do you want it? Do you?” Danny jumped into a playful crouch and waved his improvised toy from side to side.

Cujo mirrored his stance, paws outstretched and tail ablur. A low whine escaped his throat and Danny wisely chose that moment to throw the ball before Cujo decided he was tired of waiting and simply pounced on him instead.

The ball flew over a tree lined hill and out of sight, with dog not far behind. Danny settled in to wait, this part could take some time; Cujo would dutifully look for the thrown ball for several minutes before eventually giving up and finding something else to play with. Since the “ball” was made of pure energy and didn’t actually have a physical form that _could_ be fetched, he was never really sure what Cujo would bring back. Some of Danny’s favorite substitute toys so far had been an entire tree, someone else’s Frisbee, and a _very_ ticked off squirrel. He’d seen pretty much everything at this point, but nothing he’d seen had prepared him for what happened next.

A different ball, this one transparent pink and looking as delicate as a bubble, came sailing back towards him after less than a minute. Cujo rounded the hill and leapt into the air, gaining more altitude than his non-ghostly peers would ever be able to achieve, catching the strange new ball in his massive jaws. Danny was surprised it didn’t pop. What was that thing _made_ of?

Cujo bounded off in the direction the new ball had come from, proudly toting his prize. Then, after another moment, the pink ball once again came flying at him with Cujo hot on its tail. Danny watched this process repeat itself twice more before a realization struck him: someone else was playing fetch with _his_ dog!

Not that Cujo was _actually_ his dog, he reminded himself. He could play with whoever he wanted. Still, Danny was curious about just _who_ was throwing what seemed to be an indestructible ball for a ghost dog that was far more likely to send people running away screaming in terror than running up to pet him. He followed the direction Cujo had gone, and, as he came over the crest of the small hill, he was met with an unusual sight, even by his standards.

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but Cujo lying on his back and having his gigantic, green belly scratched by the very same guy he’d almost crashed into at the Nasty Burger was _not_ it.

He stood there gawking for who knows how long, unable to process the scene before him. Tourists always _thought_ they wanted to see ghosts, until they were face to face with one, but his guy didn’t even seem fazed in the slightest. He was acting as if he played with a brightly colored, 500 pound supernatural animal all the time.

Eventually the boy noticed him watching and called out, “Hey! Is this your dog? He just kinda wandered up to me and we’ve been playing, I hope that’s okay!”

He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. Not even the people who _lived_ in this ghost-infested town would consider this situation _normal_.

“He’s _not_ my dog.” Danny defended reflexively as he walked over to the boy, before more casually continuing, “I think technically he’s his own dog, he’s a bit of a _free spirit_ ,” he chuckled at his own joke, “but we’re pretty good friends.”

The boy grinned, “Oh, that’s like my friend Lion! He just sorta comes and goes as he pleases, mainly when he wants attention!”

What kind of a name was “Lion?”

Before Danny had a chance to ask, Cujo began bouncing around them whining, apparently having decided that since he was no longer getting belly rubs it was time to play again. So much for tiring him out early.

“Do you wanna go again, buddy?” the boy asked.

Taking the dog’s enthusiastic bark as a “yes,” he seemed to pull that strange pink ball out of thin air and then he threw it, hard. Watching it disappear into the horizon, Danny had to admit the guy had a pretty good arm. That one would definitely take a while to fetch.

He peered at the boy out of the corner of his eye, noting that he looked about as exhausted as Danny did during a normal week. If that was his throw now, Danny would give just about anything to see what his pitch looked like when he was at the top of his form.

It seemed the other boy had taken the opportunity to size Danny up as well, because he abruptly snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Hey, wait a minute! I recognize you!”

Danny froze. He suddenly couldn’t feel his fingers or toes anymore, contrasting strangely with the sensation of his stomach dropping into his feet. A prickling feeling traveled over his scalp and down his spine, as if someone had dumped ice water on his head.

His brain floundered to make sense of the boy’s statement; he couldn’t possibly have recognized him from the Nasty Burger, right? Sure, he’d been standing closer than Danny realized, but he couldn’t have _seen_ anything incriminating. Plus he looked completely different in his ghost form… and by “completely different,” he meant that his hair and clothes had changed, and his eyes… and he was glowing a bit, but that was hard to see in the daylight… and _why hasn’t anyone else noticed yet?_ He really _didn’t_ look all that different in ghost form. Maybe it was the flying? Most people saw him flying and shooting glowing green energy out of his hands; _that_ was definitely different. That had to be it. There was no other way some random tourist figured out his identity after running into him _twice_ when his own ghost hunting parents still hadn’t figured it out.

At this point, his entire body had gone numb except for the pounding in his chest. He realized he should probably say something, at least _try_ to throw him off the trail.

“Re-, uh, really?” he choked out.

“Yeah!” the boy responded enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of Danny’s state. “You were in one of my dreams.”

Wait, _what_? Mental record scratch on the panic track. Was that supposed to be a _pick up line_?

He was never going to get used to being famous, was he? Of _course_ this was just some hero worship celebrity crush thing! That made so much more sense than a random guy recognizing him after a chance encounter and a handful of exchanged words.

He knew he had admirers as Danny Phantom, more people definitely noticed his heroic alter ego than plain old Danny Fenton, but they didn’t really know anything _about_ him, they were just captivated by the _idea_ of him. He thought of Paulina; she’d rejected him and outright made fun of him more times than he could count, but had a full on shrine to Phantom in her locker.

But, he supposed, if you had an affinity for the weird and macabre and the chance to shoot your shot with a town’s most infamous ghost, why not? And he was flattered, really, but they couldn’t be genuine feelings. He would just have to let him down gently.

He glanced over at the boy and realized that he’d continued talking while Danny had been lost in his own thoughts. Once he started listening, what he was saying immediately jolted Danny back to full attention.

“-and that’s when I saw you and two other people in this weird little spaceship come out of one of the floating doors. The driver was this super cool Goth girl with black hair and black clothes and everything, and she had this grim sort of worried look on her face, and you and the other guy were laughing at something on his weird phone thing an—“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Danny interrupted, waving his hands and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve been to the _Ghost Zone?_ ”

If he had been to the Ghost Zone, seen Sam and Tucker there, with him… This was bad. So, so bad. If he hadn’t figured out his identity already, seeing him with Sam and Tucker might be the final piece he needed! Or if he didn’t figure out his identity, but word got back to his parents that Sam and Tucker had taken the Specter Speeder into the Ghost Zone with Danny Phantom and not their son, that would totally make them suspicious and then _they_ might figure out his identity!

Not to mention he would have to figure out how this guy, who was definitely not setting off his ghost sense, got into the Ghost Zone in the first place and put a stop to it. He groaned internally. His nice little break was over.

“Um, what’s the Ghost Zone?”

“That- that place you were, uh, just talking about,” he said, suddenly feeling absurd, “with the, uh, purple doors floating in ectoplasm and all the, you know, ghosts.”

The boy opened his mouth, almost like he was going to correct Danny about something, when a look of confusion, or maybe realization, flickered across his face and he shut it again, looking off to the side in thought.

After a moment he turned back to Danny, apparently having come to a conclusion; but before he had a chance to say anything, the sound of powerful jet engines drew their attention to a black and red suited figure on a high-tech hoverboard closing in fast.

“Ha, I’ve got you now ghost boy!” she shouted, firing a series of lasers and small explosive devices.

Danny dove, knocking them both out of the way of the incoming projectiles. He placed himself in between the boy and the angry ghost hunter currently looping around for a second fly-by attack.

His luck had _definitely_ run out. He’d forgotten about Valerie. _How had he forgotten about Valerie?!_ With how quiet the ghosts had been lately, he and Cujo were probably the only thing lighting up her sensors right now. Not good. Very not good. He would need to turn back into Fenton to have even a hope of losing her… but, he couldn’t just leave this guy, he needed to question him, needed to figure out just how much he knew about the Ghost Zone, and ghosts, and, most importantly, about _him_.

He needed a distraction.

His eyes darted around the park, searching for something, anything, that could be of help. Unfortunately there were only a few people milling around this morning, despite the lovely weather; not enough for either of them to blend in with a crowd, but too many to pull something risky.

Maybe he could phase the two of them down into the sewer… of course, she’d still be able to track his energy signature, and would inevitably blast her way through the dirt and pipes to get to them, but it might buy him enough time to come up with a better idea.

Even as he thought it, he was already reaching behind him to grab hold of the other boy and pull them underground, but his half-baked plan came a second too late. Valerie had already unleashed a volley of ecto-seeking missiles, screaming their way towards him at top speed. There wasn’t time to think, let alone dodge.

Intangibility forgotten, he braced for the impact, but it never came.

Instead, muffled explosions reached his ears; somehow, impossibly, drowned out by a faint warbling tone and the sort of tinkling noise he imagined a very expensive glass vase would make if it burst into a dangerous and sparkly dust. A sort of… ethereal cacophony.

He opened his eyes to discover the sound was coming from a giant, semi-transparent, pink shield spinning lazy circles in the air above his head. As he watched, a gentle breeze carried away a cloud of smoke, all that was left of Valerie’s missiles.

Now, he’d certainly seen some weird things in his time, especially since his parents had created a portal to an extremely chaotic parallel dimension in their basement, but this? This was a new one.

He glanced over his shoulder to check on the poor boy who’d gotten caught up in the crossfire. Then craned his neck to look up while his jaw dropped. The “boy” had somehow become nearly twice as tall and electric pink.

Okay, now he _really_ had questions.

Unfortunately, Valerie recovered first, redoubling her onslaught. When her long range weapons failed to penetrate the shield, she pulled out a staff that, at the push of a button, crackled to life with the same magenta energy as her lasers.

She swooped in low and fast under the shield’s defenses, barreling between Danny and his strange pink ally, dealing blows left and right.

When her staff struck Danny, it sent a burning shock through his veins that hummed in his teeth and sizzled in his hair. He fell to the ground convulsing and screaming through gritted teeth.

Her weapon was calibrated specifically to harm ghosts, so it didn’t have the same debilitating effect on the pink guy as it did Danny, but Valerie packed a punch either way and she landed several solid hits before rising back into the sky on the other side.

“It’s gonna take more than a measly shield to stop _me!_ ” she taunted. “Is that really the best you got?”

Danny struggled to his feet, witty comeback at the ready, but the other guy beat him to it.

“You don’t want me to hold back? _Fine_.” he spit out.

He planted one foot firmly on the ground with a dull thud then made a sharp, outward gesture with his arms. The shield above them shattered into a thousand geometric pieces, rocketing away from him like shrapnel from an explosion.

Valerie tried to evade the sudden barrage, but she was too close and there were too many shards to dodge them all. She fell from the sky with a panicked scream.

Her cry seemed to shake his companion out of whatever rage had come over him. He was still pink, but had returned to his normal size.

“Oh no, oh no, no, not again.” He mumbled. “What have I done?”

He took a shaking step towards Valerie, but Danny stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, look! She’s okay,” he gestured at the girl who was dazedly rubbing her head from halfway inside a large bush, “but _we_ won’t be if we stick around here much longer.”

The boy took another look at Valerie, eyeing the weapons just out of her reach, before nodding at Danny.

At his signal, Danny immediately grabbed hold of his arms and invisibly flew them several blocks, landing in a secluded alleyway.

Once again visible, Danny noted that the boy’s color had almost returned to normal and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Woah! You can fly? And turn _invisible?!_ ” he exclaimed. “Also, dude, your hands are _cold_.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Ghosts’ bodies don’t have the heat producing metabolic processes that humans do; they’re basically cold-blooded, or cold… ectoplasmed?” Danny shrugged. “Well, most ghosts anyway. So when a ghost is around, the temperature drops because the molecules in the ghost and the molecules in the air, or anything else the ghost is touching, are trying to reach a thermal equilibrium.”

Danny had heard the explanation enough times from his parents that he could rattle it off fairly easily; but when he took in his companion’s blank expression, he realized that most people probably weren’t used to impromptu lessons on ectobiology.

“Wait, you’re a _ghost_?”

Danny blinked.

Well that answered the question of how much the guy knew about ghosts: not much. Or he didn’t know he knew, which could potentially be far more dangerous. Danny still needed to find out what exactly he had seen in the Ghost Zone and how. And he needed to do it without Valerie finding them again.

“What, the giant green dog and the girl flying around shooting at me yelling ‘I’m gonna destroy you, ghost boy!’ didn’t give it away?” he sassed. “And…”

Was he really doing this?

“I’m actually only half ghost,” he said, transforming with a bright flash of light.

Apparently he was.

His eyes had squeezed themselves shut with the change. He’d never _told_ anyone before, they’d always just… found out on their own. There were so many ways this could go wrong and he was afraid.

He was afraid to look. Afraid of seeing the rejection on the boy’s face, disgusted by the freak standing in front of him: half human, half ghost. A being whose very existence shouldn’t be possible.

But he had helped him during Valerie’s attack, trusted him enough to reveal his own powers. It was only fair that Danny extend that same trust.

When he finally worked up the courage to pry his eyes open, he jumped back in surprise at finding another set of eyes just inches from his own.

The guy’s eyes twinkled, actually twinkled. He’d thought that was just an expression, but it seemed he was wrong. What had been ordinary-looking dark eyes only moments ago were now the night sky to entire galaxies of bright stars, like polished diamonds scattered on a backdrop of black velvet.

“You’re half _ghost_? That’s so cool! I’m half _Gem_!”

Now it was Danny’s turn to give the other boy a blank stare.

He helpfully added, “On my mom’s side.” like that would make it make sense.

When Danny still didn’t respond, the boy prompted, “ _So_ , which one of your parents is a ghost?”

The sheer ridiculousness of that question had Danny spluttering out, “They’re not- that’s not- not how it- I- it-” He took a deep breath and started again, “It was an accident.”

At seeing the look on the other boy’s face, he clarified, “A _lab_ accident. You know, messing around in my parents’ ghost research lab one day, like a normal teen, woke up with ghost powers the next…”

He did _not_ like the turn this conversation had taken. “Change of topic. _Change of topic!”_ the voice in his head demanded.

He gestured at the boy’s shirt, a single, yellow star on a black background, “So. You like space?”

_Smooth_.

“Eh, it’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.” The other boy chuckled, allowing Danny to steer the conversation. “What about you?”

“Oh man! It would be a dream come true for me to live on the International Space Station! I’ve wanted to be an astronaut since I was a little kid,” he admitted. “But with the way my grades are looking, I might not be able to meet the qualifications for the program.”

The guy gave him a sympathetic look, “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a way to bring your grades up! I think. I’ve never actually been to school. But if not I ca—”

“I forgot about Sam and Tucker!” Danny cut in, eyes wide in panic. “I was supposed to meet them at the Nasty Burger like an hour ago to start our extra credit project!”

He grabbed his new friend’s jacket sleeve and ran out of the alley, “I hope they’re still there!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon I didn't know I had until I started writing this story: As soon as Steven leaves Beach City and people he's grown up with his whole life, everybody he meets mistakes his friendliness for flirting. He obviously gets this trait from Greg.
> 
> The scene that made me write this story is the last one in this chapter when Steven says, "You're half ghost? That's so cool! I'm half Gem! On my mom's side."
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at fan fiction, or really any kind of writing that wasn't school related, so I would love to hear your feedback! I'll probably add more tags as I write more of the story, as of right now, I have about 3/4 of the second chapter written, a solid idea for the third taking shape, and an almost finished chapter that takes place at some undetermined later point. I'm aiming for posting the second chapter this weekend, Monday at the latest. Wish me luck!


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